The Swear
by Parsley
Summary: Marth's innocent subconscious told him that his half-hearted training was merely standard practice, and such skills would not be necessary for his survival.


"You're no fighter," were his father's harsh words that echoed through Marth's mind as he took up his blade. He gritted his teeth in concentration and sloppily parried the bandit's heavy axe blow, swaying towards the ground. The young prince recoiled back and managed to heave his sword up fast enough to hear the piercing cling of metal as he intercepted the deadly strike.

Marth resisted the urge to dart out of the way of his opponent, but remembered his scattered training sessions with Jeigan, forcing him to focus. The confidence and clean strikes of his opponent made the prince even more uneasy. His palms sweated in a way that made his sword feel like a hindering scrap of iron rather than a graceful instrument of battle. "An actor, not a fighter," his father would growl, etching the words permanently into Marth's determined head.

The burly opponent gave a confident shout and lunged at the dazed prince. Marth stumbled back and was clipped in the arm, causing the reality of the battle to become grossly apparent to him. As the struggle lingered on, a grim reality pressed itself against Marth's conflicted will: he was going to have to steal this man's life from him if he wanted to continue living.

Marth wearily remained on the defence, bulkily dancing away from the attacker's vicious strikes while becoming visibly fatigued. His breaths were heavier and forced, and he briefly thought that he was going to fall unconscious.

He awkwardly parried a heavy slice that would have decapitated him if he had hesitated. Marth could tell by the cockiness of his opponent that he was being played with. Furrowing his brow, Marth grinded his blade away from the sharp edge of the axe and blindly thrust the sword into his opponent's side. The bandit grinned at Marth's offensive jab and took the opportunity of his imbalance to weave his way to the side of the smaller boy and kick him with all the force he could muster.

The unpredicted action and Marth's poor footing caused him to lose his balance. He tumbled to the ground, but caught himself with his strained free-hand. Desperately rolling away from the bandit's finishing blow, Marth sluggishly got back on his feet. The bandit could tell that Marth was dazed and exhausted, and lowered his guard. Taking up his sword defensively again, Marth readied himself to parry an incoming attack, regretting his bold, offensive action from before. The prince's solemn face was met with a wickedly confident grin that caused him to timidly bring his gaze to the man's hands clinging skillfully to his axe.

After a few moments, the bandit charged at Marth, who instinctively braced his arms in anticipation for the dangerously blunt counter. His skill and strength, however, were unmatched to the bandit, who struck the very end of Marth's blade with a heavy thrust. Unable to hold up to such a force, the blade viciously snapped back and sliced Marth. The stunned prince staggered backwards, losing the defensive advantage he had on the bandit.

The opposer's lips curled into a smile at the opportunity presented to him. He let out a barking laugh as he readied his axe for a legendary kill.

Marth's frightened eyes widened when he noticed a the sharp point of a sword rip through the bandit's chest from his back. Blood sprinkled onto his face and he closed his eyes, not wanting to witness the vengeful ambition drain from the murderous man's eyes in the last moments of his life. The blade twisted in a circular motion. When the foreign weapon was removed, the bandit's lifeless body fell to the ground, as if it had always been a corpse. Shaken, Marth looked up to see the hard, blank face of Jeigan holding the bloody blade.

As fast as the chaotic ambush had began, it was over. Marth scanned his surroundings, feeling faint. It was clear from the few strewn bodies of the attackers that they had purposely planned for Marth to be separated from his knights in the struggle. Breathing heavily, he kindly refused Jeigan's hand and pulled himself from the ground on his own.

Disappointed, Marth swore to himself and his kingdom that he would do everything in his power to destroy his pathetic reputation as a helpless child. Placing a hand on his wound, Marth shamefully avoided the concerned glances of his knights. He swore that he was going to learn how to defend himself before someone ended up dying due to his selfish weakness.

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><p>Notes: Interestingly enough, I prefer writing about my favorite character's flaws rather than his greatness! He definitely worked hard to become the legacy he is known for, and I really like that about Marth - considering that he also is a prince. His status may have been handed to him and then ripped away, but he forcefully earned everything back, plus more. I just really love Marth; I'll be quiet now!<p>

I don't own Fire Emblem.


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